


A Sad State

by yourebrilliant



Category: White Collar
Genre: Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-16
Updated: 2013-01-16
Packaged: 2017-11-25 18:21:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,563
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/641691
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yourebrilliant/pseuds/yourebrilliant
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>El finds Neal and Peter in a sorry state.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Sad State

**Author's Note:**

> Part of a series of more-funny-than-tragic h/c fics for [](http://rabidchild67.livejournal.com/profile)[](http://rabidchild67.livejournal.com/)**rabidchild67** in return for the awesome WC/Glee crossover she's writing.

Humming happily, Elizabeth Burke skipped up the steps to her beautiful row house, giddy with delight at landing one of New York’s most exclusive clients. She hoped Neal and Peter weren’t too worn out from their undercover op the night before; she was in the mood to celebrate.

‘ _Oh, it’s a good day_ ,’ El sang, flinging open the door. Halfway in the door, she paused, her shoe half off, staring in confusion at the sight in front of her. The house was in darkness, all the curtains were pulled shut, the lights were off and she could see Peter sprawled on the couch, one arm flung over his eyes.

‘Shut,’ he muttered, sounding as if each word caused him pain, ‘The. Door.’

Slipping her shoe back on, El stepped further into the room, gently shutting the door behind her. ‘Honey?’ she murmured. ‘What’s wrong? Oh my god,’ she cried, suddenly catching sight of Neal’s slight frame slumped over the dining room table. ‘Neal?’

‘Not so loud,’ Neal whispered. ‘Please,’ he added.

‘What happened?’ El said quietly.

‘Nick Halden happened,’ Peter groaned. ‘God, I hate that guy.’

‘He’s not so fond of you right now,’ Neal retorted weakly. ‘And it was _your_ idea to have a drink with the evil overlord of the underworld.’

‘Are you hungover?’ El asked, her eyes flickering between her two, very pale, men.

‘We needed to gain his trust,’ Peter explained. ‘It’s not like I knew he’d be serving ouzo!’ he declared, his voice rising to a level that caused both men to wince and clutch their heads.

‘You were drinking ouzo?’ El asked, perching on the edge of the couch in the small space left by Peter’s long legs. ‘Peter,’ she chastised, ‘you know you can’t drink ouzo. Don’t you remember Rhodes?’

Neal laughed harshly.

Peter risked a glare in Neal’s general direction. ‘It’s not like I had a choice with Mr I-Can-Hold-My-Liquor over there.’

‘I _can_ hold my liquor,’ Neal retorted.

‘Yeah, it really looks like it,’ Peter scoffed.

‘Hey, it wasn’t me singing the theme tune to _The Lone Ranger_ ,’ Neal parried.

‘Okay,’ El said, raising her voice enough to cut through their bickering. ‘Enough fighting. Have either of you done anything _sensible_? Glass of water? Painkillers?’

Neal waved an arm weakly. ‘I tried,’ he whispered, ‘but I think someone moved the kitchen.’

El pressed her lips together, trying not to laugh at their predicament. ‘Poor baby,’ she murmured, teasingly. Ignoring her tone, Neal nodded faintly, looking as pathetic as it was possible for a grown man to be. El rolled her eyes and slipped off her shoes. ‘Okay, well, since the kitchen seems to have returned to its former location,’ once again she had to smother a laugh, ‘let’s get you some water.’

Padding through to the kitchen, El filled two glasses of water and returned to the main room. Neal had slumped forward again, his face pillowed on his crossed arms. ‘Here you go, sweetie,’ she murmured, setting the glass beside him and stroking a hand through his tousled hair. He tilted his face towards her and mouthed _Thank you_. ‘You’re welcome,’ El whispered. ‘And here’s one for you, hon,’ she said, crossing the room and helping Peter to sit up enough to drink. Neal had managed to drag himself upright and was carefully sipping.

‘Now,’ she said, casting a quelling look over both men, ‘if I go upstairs to get some painkillers, will you promise not to fight while I’m gone?’

Neal favoured her with his butter-wouldn’t-melt expression and, if the effect was diminished by his bloodshot eyes, the intention was the same. Peter nodded gently, his head propped in his hand, all his attention focused on rehydrating his brain.

‘Good,’ El said. She quickly made her way upstairs, pausing in the bathroom only long enough to find the painkillers and allow herself a little sigh of relief at the situation below. The sight of Neal and Peter in those positions could have come straight from one of her worst nightmares. Both men had resourceful enemies and her most secret fear was that one day, one or both of them wouldn’t come home. It had taken a few minutes for her heart to stop racing once she realised they were drunk, not dead.

‘Here we are,’ she said, popping the painkillers out of their plastic bubbles and passing two to each man. True to their words, or at least pained expressions, they appeared to have stopped fighting. For the moment at least.

‘Separate beds, I think,’ El said.

Peter frowned at her, ‘El, we’re not really in any state to-’

El laughed softly at Peter’s mistake. ‘To keep you from _fighting_ ,’ she explained.

Peter flushed. ‘to fight,’ he finished lamely. ‘I meant “to fight”.’ Neal caught El’s gaze and smirked at her.

‘Well, I don’t think we should risk it,’ El retorted. ‘You stay there,’ she directed Peter. ‘Neal,’ she said, crossing the room to stand by his chair, Neal stared at her blearily, ‘come on, sweetie, up to bed.’

El gently turned Neal in his chair and crouched to slide her arm around his waist. Neal managed to wrap one arm across her shoulders and heave himself to his feet. They paused for a moment while he waited for the room to stop spinning. ‘Okay, sweetie?’ El whispered. Neal leant against her for a second before standing properly again.

‘Okay,’ he managed, his soft voice stirring the hairs at her neck. Slowly they made their way up the stairs.

‘Did you two crash in the guest room last night?’ she asked, trying to decide where to put him.

‘Well, it was more like sometime this morning,’ Neal murmured as they reached the landing, ‘but, yeah.’

‘Alright, let’s put you in the master bedroom and the Lone Ranger can go back to the guest room.’ Neal smirked against El’s neck. ‘I felt that,’ El warned. ‘This is not a punishment; I just need to change the sheets first.’

‘Sure, I know that,’ Neal murmured.

‘Here you go, sweetie,’ El said, gently lowering Neal to the mattress. ‘Take your belt off,’ she said, nodding to the elegant silver buckle, ‘and how on earth did you sleep with a tie on?’ As Neal fiddled with the buckle, El gently untangled the too-tight knot of his tie. ‘Better?’ she asked, slipping the tie off. Neal nodded silently and lay back on the bed to slide he belt off. Smothering a smile at the sight of him, El took the belt and set it with his tie before tipping his legs up onto the bed. Wriggling slightly, Neal managed to get his head onto the pillow and sighed deeply. El smiled indulgently. ‘Okay, sweetie, try and get some sleep. I’ll bring you up some food later.’

As she turned to leave, she felt Neal’s hand wrap around her wrist. Turning back, she looked down to find him smiling weekly up at her. ‘Love you,’ he murmured.

Smiling warmly, El crouched beside the bed and stroked a hand through his hair. ‘You too, sweetie,’ she murmured, pressing a kiss to his forehead.

Neal smiled back, his eyelids already fluttering shut. El slipped her hand out of Neal’s grasp and padded back out the door, gently shutting the door behind her. ‘And now for the other one,’ she sighed.

By the time she had stripped the bed, put new linens on, and made her way back downstairs, Peter had fallen asleep again, his empty glass lying on its side near his hand. El made her way over to him and crouched beside the couch. ‘Peter,’ she whispered, brushing his hair back, ‘time to go to bed.’

‘Mmm, ‘kay,’ Peter murmured. El chuckled lightly, shaking her head gently as she helped Peter to his feet.

‘How did you even get home last night?’ she asked.

‘Uh...Jones,’ Peter managed. ‘Good man.’

El smiled. ‘Yes, he is.’ Carefully she manoeuvred Peter up the stairs, using the wall to support his weight, and got him settled in the guest room.

‘Hang on,’ he said, focusing briefly, ‘how come I’m in the guest room?’

‘Oh, honey, one of you had to be and you were already lying down, so...’

Peter waved a hand wildly. ‘Never mind.’

‘You’re a good man, too,’ El told him, leaning over and pressing a kiss to his forehead. ‘You sleep; I’ll bring you some food later.’

‘Mm, thank you, hon,’ Peter murmured, snuggling further under the covers.

‘No problem, honey,’ El said, smiling warmly at him. ‘But no more ouzo, okay?’

‘Never. Again,’ Peter muttered fervently. ‘Never.’

 

‘El?’

‘Sweetie, what are you doing up?’ El asked, frowning at Neal as he slumped against the doorway. ‘I was just about to bring you some eggs.’

‘Why were you singing?’ Neal asked, his brow furrowed.

‘Sit down,’ El said, retrieving two slices of toast from the toaster and doling out the eggs into two portions. ‘I had a good day,’ she said, setting a plate down in front of Neal.

‘Until you came home,’ Neal murmured.

‘It’s okay,’ El said, stroking his cheek. ‘Just make sure you take me out to dinner this weekend,’ she said, winking at him.

‘We will,’ Neal promised.

‘Okay. Now, you stay here and finish that,’ she said, gesturing to the plate. ‘I’ll take this up to Peter.’

‘’kay,’ Neal managed, picking up a fork.

**Author's Note:**

> The song El's singing is "It's A Good Day" by Perry Como.


End file.
